Worth It
by Rubyslippers89
Summary: Response to The Hayden Girls challenge on Illusive; A tragedy in Rory's family leaves her with a sister she barely knows and a boyfriend that wants to be more. Set late season 7, pre-7.21
1. Prologue: In the Middle of the Night

A/N: Here we go, folks: a story from a different genre! I do actually read stuff outside of the usual Degrassi, and as a consequence do occasionally write stuff in other genres, too. Here's a response to my _The Hayden Girls _challenge I left on Illusive and Black, White, and Read. I thought it was an intriguing idea when I issued the challenge so I thought I'd get the ball rolling and maybe there would be some more takers.

A word about the time line: I set it late season 7, so after Logan comes back from London, but before his deal goes sour and he leaves his dad's company. I'm also chucking the whole "Lorelei and Christopher get married" storyline because I hate it. We'll say Lorelei and Chris dated after the season 6 finale debacle and then they broke up. I'm having Lorelei and Luke do that whole painfully awkward dance they do when they're avoiding things. Don't worry, though, I'll fix them before too much longer. This is just the prologue!

Disclaimer: If I owned Gilmore Girls, I most certainly would not have ended it the way they did, and Logan would get far more screen time—he's way too attractive to be stuck in the background with bit parts in scenes.

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It was late when I got the news. I was asleep in my cramped room and there was a knock on our door. Paris was out of bed in what seemed like freakishly too short of a time, and I stumbled groggily into the living room wrapped in a blanket. Paris shouted through the door for the person to identify themselves, apparently afraid it was one of the do-wop group come to call. When the man shouted back that he was a police officer looking for a Lorelei Leigh Gilmore, my stomach began to hurt. I thought of my mother, of Luke, Logan, my grandparents. It never even occurred to me that it could be my father.

I entered the hospital dressed in rubber ducky pajama pants and a Yale sweatshirt over a stained tank-top. My hair was truly scary, but it was probably the last thing on my mind. I had called my mother before I left the apartment, Logan in the car on the way over, and Paris and Doyle were parking the car. I stumbled towards the desk and asked for him. I tried to sound calm and confident, but it came out small, scared, and scratchy from crying. She directed me to the ICU ward on the 6th floor, smiling sympathetically as I shuffled quickly away.

The ICU ward was deathly quiet and I couldn't tell if it was because it was 3:00 I the morning or if it was always like that, but as I rounded the corner and saw the 5 year old sister I barely knew sitting there on a bench with a doll and a nurse, I realized the only thing I really wanted was my mother. I approached slowly and GiGi ran up to me, shouting my name. I hugged her and quietly shushed her, her noise shocking me out of the stupor I was in.

I sat on the bench with her while the nurse went to get the doctor to talk to me, her sleepy body heavy on my lap. When the doctor appeared, I shifted her weight to my hip and stood up. She stirred a little and then settled down, her head resting on my shoulder and her eyes closed.

"Ms. Gilmore? I'm Dr. Howe—I'm going to brief you on your father's condition." His voice was calm and soothing; I could tell he was gearing up for bad news.

"Yes, well, if you could do that please." I was babbling and I didn't seem to be able to stop.

"Of course, you probably already know that your father was in an accident tonight. It appears he was driving home from a late meeting when he lost control of the car. His car struck a tree and he suffered major trauma to the abdomen and the head." He paused, apparently trying to let the impossible sink in.

"What does that mean?" My voice was whispery and paper-thin. I kept thinking about this time when I was eight and he was driving me to school on one of his infrequent visits. We'd been hit by a tourist in a rental car—a fender bender.

"Well, your father's brain has stopped sending messages to any other part of his body—not to be insensitive, but there's no brain activity. We have a Do Not Resuscitate order in his file. We can't help him if his heart stops beating or he stops breathing." He looked at me sadly. "I'm sorry, but his chances aren't good."

"What are they?" I was starting to wish that I'd made him wait until someone was here with me before he'd started. "His chances, I mean."

"I doubt he'll make it through the night. I'm sorry, is there someone we can call?"

"I already took care of it." He nodded sympathetically and backed away slowly—probably off to tell someone else horrific news.

I sat down and waited for the worst.

About an hour later, my mom and Luke made it to the hospital in Boston. Logan was right behind them, and it helped seeing them all. They all took turns holding Gigi and me both.

He died at 3:15 that morning. I never even went into the room he was lying in. Mom went in and sat with him for a little while, but Luke was the one in the room when he died. The monitors went off and nurses rushed in; I could hear the beeping in the hallway.

Logan held my hand when the doctor came out to tell me that he'd gone. This overwhelming press of sadness came over me and I found out what it meant to be drowning in grief and regret. I looked down at Gigi, who was happily sleeping on the chair/bench the hospital had provided, and I saw how much I wished he could have been a real dad to me. I felt my knees go weak and Logan hold me up. I remember feeling empty all of a sudden, and that was all. I woke up a little while later in my own bed with Logan lying next to me.

It wasn't until later that it sunk in completely.


	2. Chapter 1: New Living Arrangments

So here I sit, in this ridiculously hard chair in this stupid lawyer's conference room

A/N: Here it is: the first whole chapter! I hope everyone's excited. Anyway, I just wanted to point out something, here. I am not a lawyer, nor have I ever been involved in any kind of legal proceeding at all—meaning that the will reading depicted in this chapter is total and complete imagination. I tried to be as realistic as possible, but I probably failed. I have probably made so many grievous errors that the entire scene is rendered completely unrealistic, but such is life. The point of the chapter is to set things up for the rest of the story, get over the unrealistic will reading.

Next: Not that I don't absolutely adore your reviews so far (and trust me, GG has officially become my new favorite genre to write in because of them), but I would like to request some comments on the subject of character. I'm a little nervous about how Rory came out in this chapter, and I know I didn't really get around to using Logan's voice either—maybe I'll try a chapter where at least part is from his perspective? I don't know—you tell me.

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So here I sit, in this ridiculously hard chair in this stupid lawyer's conference room. There are several people here that I didn't think I'd ever have to see again, much less in the same room together.

We're all waiting to hear my Dad's will.

I'm sitting with Logan to my left. His hand is tangled in mine and I don't think I've ever been more grateful to him for his calming presence. Across the table my mom is sitting practically in Luke's lap, and both she and Luke are looking a little worse for the wear. Francine Hayden is sitting a little to her right, and she looks so sad and uncomfortable that I don't think I've ever felt so sorry and vindicated at the same time. A friend of Dad's that Mom apparently knows also is sitting at the other end of the table—I think he's the executor. The big surprise, though, is sitting to my right.

Sherry showed up for both the funeral and the will reading. She's sitting there, back straight, looking for all the world like a grieving widow. Too bad she never really made it down the aisle and managed to abandon both fiancé and daughter in one fell swoop. She's been sniffling at appropriate places, but I don't think she's actually shed a tear at all.

Suddenly, the guy in the back clears his throat. He's just finished sorting out stacks of papers and passes one to everyone but Luke and Logan. I go to ask why, but Logan just rubs my arm comfortingly and shakes his head. I guess he doesn't really need one, now that I think about it.

"Thank you all for coming." His voice is pleasant, and I can tell he really wishes he didn't have to do this. "Well, I suppose we should just get to it, shouldn't we? Are there any questions before I begin the reading?" He looks around the table and no one says anything. He nods his head solemnly and picks up the first page in his stack. He indicates that we can follow along, and he begins.

"I, Christopher Marcus Hayden, being of sound mind do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament.

In the first, I would like to take care of my daughters.

To Lorelei Leigh Gilmore (Rory) I leave the control of the remainder of my assets, after my final debts and expenses have been paid. I'm sorry I was never really there when I should have been, but I want you to know I wish I was there now.

To Georgia Ann Hayden (Gigi) I leave the contents of the condo (with the exception of the CD collection) which is to be sold and the money given to her trust fund—which she will be access at the age of 18.

To the issue of Gigi's custody:

I leave full custody of Gigi, having been given to me by both court ruling and agreement with her mother, to her sister. In the event of Rory being unable to care for her, or if she has yet to reach the age of 21, Rory's mother Lorelei is to take custody.

In the second, I would like to mention my mother.

She has not always agreed with my choices, she's made no secret of that. However, I want her to know that I never wished her any ill feelings and I hope she does what makes her happy.

In the third, I would like to take care of Lorelei Gilmore.

Lorelei has been my greatest friend for as long as I can remember. We've had our ups and downs, but in the end our friendship has endured. To her I leave my CD collection, and I wish her the best in all of her future endeavors.

Lastly, I would like to mention my former fiancée Sherry.

To her I leave the enclosed letter. She is to open in at her leisure, and beyond that, I wish her the best.

The will continues in legal jargon, discussing how the assets were to be liquidated, exactly what was to be done with his office stuff, his share in the business, ect. I honestly stopped truly comprehending what was going on after the first part.

I turned 21 last October. I'm moving to Hartford with Logan to take a job at the _Hartford Chronicle_ in three weeks. Logan is talking about proposing soon, and I've already made clear that as long as we talk about the important things first, I'm ready and willing to say yes. We've yet to have the important conversation that details exactly what we want to do, but I know it's coming soon. My new job is 9 to 5, at least theoretically, and will be until I advance significantly at the paper. I'm certainly capable of caring for my little sister.

I guess Gigi is moving in with me and Logan.

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The will reading ends and the executer hands Sherry her letter. She beats feet out of the office like the very fires of Hell are licking at her heels. She didn't even look twice at me, my mother, or Gigi, and to be honest I'm not sad to see her go. My grandmother nods to me and my mother, pats Gigi on the head uncomfortably, and leaves as dignified as she can.

The executer beckons my mother and me into his office. We leave Luke with Gigi in the hallway—he exchanged a look with Mom and calmly picked up a book to read to her. Logan follows us, probably because I've yet to let go of his hand.

He closes the door and invites us to sit. I'm nearly a basket case now, with altered plans swirling around in my head and Logan's hand being nearly the only thing keeping me grounded. As I sit, Logan struggles pull up another chair for himself with his free hand, and I almost laugh and let go, but then I remember why I'm here and why I haven't let go of his hand, and I let the moment pass.

"Well, Christopher seems to have laid out everything very clearly, and all we really need to do now is make sure everything is in order and sign the papers, alright? This should be pretty painless." He stops and looks at us all, with sympathy in his gaze. I just nod slightly and I hear my mother mumble something, I assume it was her agreement.

"Alright, then. The stipulations in the will call for Rory to be over 21, and since I see from your birth date that you are, that takes care of that issue. Now, as to the other, it also states that you must feel you are capable of taking care of her, and that is an issue we should get to the bottom of immediately. First of all, do you think you_ are_ capable?"

He and everyone else looks at me, apparently waiting for me to say something.

"I realize, probably better than most people, what it takes to take care of someone by yourself and at a young age. And I also know it would probably be easier to just let Mom take her, but honestly, I don't want to. I want her with me, like Dad apparently wanted." I realize as I say it that I'm not just saying it. I _do_ want Gigi to live with me. I know it'll be hard, but I also know if I let her go live with Mom I won't feel good about it. I'll feel like I rejected her, and that is something I definitely don't want to deal with.

"Are you sure, Rory? Because if you're not, than I don't want you to feel bad about letting me take her—"

"Mom, I'm okay, really. I can do this. And besides, Logan will be there to help me." At this, I feel Logan squeeze my hand. I glance at him and he looks a little relieved. I'll get to the bottom of that later, but I focus back on the problem at hand.

"Well, if you think you can handle it, we'll set you up with a Children's services home visit and—"

"Why do I have to have a visit from Children's Services?" I'm confused; it says I'm supposed to take her, right there in the will. I listened to it being read out. Why would I need someone to verify my ability to care for my sister?

"It's a formality, really. It happens in most change of custody cases. It is also in your best interest that you have the visit well documented and cooperate fully because of Sherry."

"What? She hasn't been in the country since she left Chris—what would she have to do with any of this?" Mom's voice is harsh and you can hear the hate she feels for Sherry in the indignant question.

"Well, the type of custody agreement Chris had with her basically states that she has temporarily given up rights to Gigi. This doesn't mean, however, that she can't ever sue for them again. Having proof that the States of Massachusetts and Connecticut both find you capable and fit to be Gigi's guardian will go a long way if Sherry were to ever try to sue for custody."

"Why both states?" Logan asks his first question of the day, and I'm almost surprised that he said this much. He's very into supporting me silently when it comes to the screwy politics of my family.

"The State of Massachusetts is supposed to insure the safety of all children residing in the state, which includes Gigi at the moment, and Connecticut will be responsible for her well-being once she moves in with you—I'm assuming you will be staying in Connecticut, correct?"

At my nod he continues.

"Well, can I ask as to the basic details of your future plans? It will help for the DCF interviewer to know a little background going in."

Logan squeezes my hand comfortingly and I open my mouth to start.

"Actually, I'm moving from New Haven to Hartford to be closer to work—I got a job at the _Hartford Chronicle_—and Logan will be living with me. Our apartment has another bedroom, so that won't be a real problem, and I believe the school district is alright, but I haven't checked up on that yet for obvious reasons."

"May I be frank, Rory?" His expression is calm and Mom doesn't look worried, so I nod again.

"It sounds like a sound plan, but if I were you I would consider the idea of marriage. Not that it's a necessity or anything at all, but I would be remiss if I didn't tell you it would look more permanent to the interviewers if you were at least considering the idea." Logan squeezes my hand and nods.

"We are considering it." The executer nods again and I watch as he glances at his papers.

"Well, if you don't have anymore questions, I can have you sign the papers right here and then you can take Gigi back to either your apartment or her condo."

I nod and pick up the pen on the desk and sign my whole name to the papers on his desk. The secretary from outside is ready and when the executer beeps her over the intercom, she comes in and notarizes it quickly.

We leave the room and I suddenly feel a little better than I did 20 minutes ago. Logan squeezes my hand and we walk over to Gigi and Luke. He glances up and wraps up the book, pulling Gigi down off his lap and leading her over to me. She's dressed in the same black jumper from the funeral yesterday, but by now it's rumpled and has a stain of some kind down the front. I kneel down, finally letting go of Logan's hand.

"Hey Gigi, you remember Logan from the hospital, right?" I gesture to Logan, who is standing just slightly behind me and has his hand on my shoulder. Gigi nods quietly and I take that as my cue to continue.

Only problem is, I really don't want to. I don't want to tell her that she's coming to live with me, because then she'll want to know why, and I'll have to go through the whole painful explanation of death that I already covered once this week. Suddenly, Logan jumps in to the rescue.

"Hey, you guys want to go get ice-cream? Because I really think we should go get ice-cream. I'm kind of hungry." At Gigi's excited giggle, I breathe, thankful that I don't have to answer painful questions now. I stand and take Gigi's hand. Mom and Luke are exchanging eye-messages and I realize they're going to make an excuse and leave us. I catch my mother's eye and she looks guilty and then firm. I sigh slightly—she's going to play the Mom Card and make me do this on my own.

"Honey, I think Luke and I should go and give you guys a chance to talk. I've got to go check on the Inn and make sure Michel and Sookie haven't started World War III over the position of the buffet tables, and Luke should really get back to the diner—you know we'd like to stay, but we should probably go."

"But Mom—"

"Rory." I understood that tone. It was the I'm-doing-this-for-your-own-good-so-you'd-better-just-go-with-it tone, and it brooks no argument. I nod and give up. I am resigned to doing this by myself.

Logan leads us both to his car, which has recently been outfitted with her car-seat and a bag full of her toys. We load her into the car with a minimum of chaotic fuss and get in the car ourselves. As soon as we start the car, the CD of Gigi's favorite songs hits us.

I'd forgotten we'd put it in on the way over here, and as the heinous strains of "The Wheels on the Bus" hit me for the second time today, I remember why I blocked it out. Gigi giggles as the song repeats and to my surprise, I hear Logan humming along beside me. I relax a little. Logan's here.

I don't have to do this alone as long as he's here.

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We pull into the parking lot of the ice-cream place and Logan stops the car. He glances at me and squeezes my hand before getting out of the car. I smile a little and help him get Gigi out of the car.

We walk up to the counter in the shop and I make my order and Logan places his. Gigi is having some trouble deciding, and I smile at the sight of poor Logan, wrapped around her little finger and catering to her every whim and desire. He picks her up and keeps her on his hip as she carefully samples each of every one of the 32 flavors offered, and then decides on the first one she tried. He grins slightly and looks pointedly at me. Apparently, he thinks Gigi and I are more alike than he originally thought.

We take our ice cream to the table and sit down, with Gigi deciding that Logan's lap looks much more comfortable than her own chair.

"So, Gigi, I guess we need to talk." Logan gets the ball rolling, and but he's staring at me to get me to finish.

"O.K." Her voice is small, and I know she knows this is something important. "What's going to happen?"

"Well, since Dad can't be with you anymore, he asked me to take care of you." I pause and gage her reaction. Logan's looking at me like I've just won the Pulitzer Prize for being able to do this without pulling my hair out.

"Cause Daddy's dead?" Gigi's innocently asked question still hits me like a ton of bricks. It just never gets easier, hearing that he's really gone like that.

"Yeah, sweetie. But you're going to come and live with me and Logan now, in Hartford."

Gigi chews on her bottom lip for a moment. "Is that where Grandma lives?" I nod, but her question brings up a previously-unthought-of aspect of this arrangement. Francine Hayden sees Gigi, fairly regularly from what I understand. I would hate to interrupt that, but I haven't spoken to Francine since that night I saw both her and Straub at Grandma and Grandpa's house in high school. She refused to even acknowledge me at the funeral yesterday. I decide that I can deal with that later.

"Do you live with Grandma?"

"No, sweetie, Logan and I live in an apartment away from her house." Gigi frowned at that.

"Will I have a room?"

"Of course. And you can decorate it however you want." Logan fields this question, and I shoot him a grateful look. Today just feels so surreal and I'm not sure how to handle it. Logan looks at my strained face and takes over the light chatting that is designed to distract Gigi from the reality of the situation.

The reality that has me trapped in a nightmare I can't wake from.

It's funny, because it's not like my Dad was all that present in my life to begin with. I only had weekly phone calls from him beginning midway through high school, and those pretty much stopped when I got to college. After that, I spoke to him occasionally, saw him even less frequently, and prior to him paying for college really hadn't had much prolonged contact at all.

I don't have the slightest clue how he would want Gigi to be raised—he never took the time to raise me, who knows what his philosophy was with my sister.

I pause in my musing and look at Logan. He's got my little sister perched on his lap and he's talking animatedly with her about what things in her room can be pink; right now they seems to be debating whether it is necessary for the _entire_ bed to be pink, or if just the bed spread will suffice. She's got him wrapped around her finger and he seems to be enjoying every minute of it.

Who knew that the Yale playboy of the century would be so utterly charmed by a five year old girl obsessed with the color pink? On the other hand, Logan has become increasingly enamored with the idea of a family.

We've even talked about marriage. I mean really talked, not just in the hypothetical "maybe-someday-perhaps if" kind of way, I mean really talked about what it would be like to be actually married. To have to decide where we're spending the holidays together, to have to make career-type decisions together, how we would deal with our families—together. We sat in bed about a month ago and put it all out on the table.

He wanted to talk about it, and so we did. We talked about how his family hated me but he didn't care. We talked about how my mother was hesitant and why. We talked about how we'd already lived together and what had worked and what hadn't. Honestly, if he hadn't forced the issue I probably wouldn't have brought it up, but I'm glad he did. He pushed and now I feel so much more comfortable about where we're going and what I'm doing. We're living together again in Hartford in a few weeks—or at least that was the plan, with Gigi we might need to do something temporary that is do-wop group free—and we are moving forward with our lives.

Watching him with her makes me think that we're really going to be ok, and for that I am eternally grateful. He's just about the only thing I'm really sure of at all for right now.

Gigi has talked herself into a sleepy daze and she's settling back on Logan's shoulder, dripping sticky birthday cake flavored ice cream on his shirt. His voice is getting softer and he's sending my eye messages that we should probably leave soon. I nod at him and let him lead me out of the ice cream shop.

He leads me over to the car (my very tiny Prius, I'm going to have to get a more child-friendly car, too) and fastens the sleepy Gigi in the back seat. He opens the passenger door for me and takes the keys gently out of my hand. At my questioning look, he kisses my cheek and rubs my upper arms.

"You look tired. Let me take care of you for now, alright?" His smile is small and worried, and I'm not sure I have the energy right now to do anything other than listen to him and do what he says.

I nod and let him help me into the passenger seat. He kisses the top of my head before he straightens up and closes the door. I can feel how worried he is about me, but I'm just so tired. It's like once I stopped to sit and think I realized just how exhausted I am. I haven't been sleeping well at all, and I guess it's finally catching up with me. Not even Gilmore Girls can live on Coffee alone, even we need our solid eight hours.

Logan turns the radio on low and glances back at the now sleeping Gigi and I close my eyes, drifting off in the passenger seat of my Prius and wishing for all the world that my life could go back to the way it was four days ago.


	3. Chapter 2: Dad and Me

We're staying at Logan's apartment in the city for now

A/N: Well folks, here's chapter 2: hope everybody likes it! For this chapter I thought I should explore some of the issues between Rory and Christopher, which I never felt were addressed well on the show. That being said, this is of course my interpretation of their relationship. Feel free to disagree or agree at will. In addition, I must confess I believe that I borrowed the idea of Rory and Lorelei waiting at a truck stop for Christopher from someone else. I can't for the life of me remember where, and I did add more details and a different context than I remember from the original source, but I thought I should still give credit where credit is due.

To halfadash: in response to your review, I believe you are mistaken. Custody can be awarded to either parent, regardless of whether the parents were ever married. Commonly, mothers do get more of the benefit of the doubt in custody cases, but it is by no means written in stone. And if someone had full custody of a child (be it grandparent, legal guardian, or parent) and they die, they may leave that custody to another party. The non-custodial parent may then challenge custody, but again, no guarantee that they'll win. I did look that part of the legal proceedings up, but again, the procedure may be completely unrealistic as portrayed in the last chapter.

One more thing, and then I'll let you all read the chapter: I am going out of town this weekend, and thus the everyday updates will slow until Monday when I get back to work. (I answer phones, leaves me plenty of time to get chapters done during the lulls).

Disclaimer: I don't own this, or Rory never would have said No.

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We're staying at Logan's apartment in the city for now. My classes have finished and my exams have either been taken or my professors know the situation and are giving me extensions, so I don't really have to be in New Haven anyway. My mother wanted me to come and stay with her, but with Gigi I thought it would be easier just to stay with Logan—after all, we're all going to be living with each other now, we may as well get used to it sooner rather than later.

While Logan puts Gigi to bed in his guest room, I sit on the couch and mentally prepare myself for the discussion we're going to have. I've decided that I need for Logan's and my plans to be firm. I need at least that part of my life to be as steady as possible for now, because I don't think I can take one more uncertainty at this point.

Logan comes into the living room and sits on the couch, taking one look at me and pulling me into his embrace.

"Logan…we need to…"

"Just a minute, Ace. Just take a second and slow down, alright?"

"Slow down you die." Logan chuckles at the reference to one of our first meetings.

"Well, you've got to in this particular case, Rory. I'm worried about you."

"I know you are, but I don't know how else to handle this, Logan." He rubs my back in slow circles and kisses my forehead. I can feel myself relaxing slowly for the first time since I heard the news.

"Tell me what you're thinking." The command was quiet, and I knew it was coming. Over the past few months, when Logan was stuck in London and we were doing the long-distance thing, he and I really worked on the communication part of our relationship.

Over the phone, there's no way you can read body language or distract someone with kisses, so we were pretty much forced to figure out how to talk to each other. We'd always been good at the banter, but the heavy stuff neither of us had had much experience with. Well, we've got experience now—more experience than I thought either of us would ever need.

"I'm scared I'm not going to be able to do this."

"You will be. You're fantastic with her, you know."

"You're fantastic with her."

"I have no experience with kids. My childhood consisted of an ever-revolving door of nannies, each with a completely different set of rules and systems—I have no idea what stability as a child is supposed to look like."

"Doesn't matter. She adores you."

"Yeah, but will she still like me when she's 14 and I don't know how to impress her?" And here it is: what I'm really petrified of. That he won't want to stick around long enough to see her turn 14. That he didn't sign on for a girl who's got a little sister as baggage. He feels me tensing up and hugs me a little tighter to his chest. "Tell me what you're thinking, Rory. We've gotten so good at this—don't shut me out now."

"Are you still planning on doing that—being here when she's 14?" My voice is quiet and stressed sounding, even to my ears.

"What? Of course I plan on still being here! Rory, what's wrong?" He pulls me away from his collarbone, where I've been hiding my face, and looks at me straight on.

"I just, well, you didn't sign up for this. Me, maybe, but not me and a kid. Not me and crazy family issues that are compounded for all eternity by the death of the guy holding all the cards. Not me and the mess I've become here—"

"Rory, stop. Look at me." His quiet voice stops my rambling and forces me to look into his eyes. His warm, brown, caring eyes. His eyes that I've looked into every time I see him since we started dating, and they haven't changed a bit.

"Yeah?" My voice is still quiet, but it sounds less like I'm going to burst into tears, so there's improvement, I guess.

"I signed up for you. All of you. Little sisters, crazy families, the biggest mess you could possible imagine and all. I am not going anywhere. I am here for as long as you'll have me. I love you. I love you enough to stand by you when your dad dies, I love you enough to be there when you have to deal with your little sister, I love you enough to deal with you nutty family. So please stop stressing about this. I am here to help." His face got the same look on it that he had when he was trying to get me to give him a second chance after the Thanksgiving Fiasco—it has a quality of desperation and certainty that I've come to associate with Logan telling me the absolute truth.

"Thank you." My simple reply is really all I can think to say, but he doesn't seem disappointed. Instead, he pulls me back to his chest and I resume my position on his collarbone. He's still rubbing those comforting circles on my back and I'm about to fall asleep when he asks me a question.

"Tell me about your dad."

"What? Why?" I'm confused not just at the subject change but also at the question itself. No one's ever asked me to tell them about him—most people get the impression it is not a subject I want to talk about and stay away from the topic. Even Logan hasn't ever pushed before—not even at the hospital when he sat with me in the hallway with Gigi asleep on my lap.

"Because I think it'll help you to talk about him, at least a little. So tell me about him."

"What do you want to know?"

"What's your earliest memory of him, what was he like, how was he when you were growing up, what was his favorite food—I don't know, anything." I sigh and close my eyes. Logan's right, I've been thinking about all of that since I got the news and I've been practically itching to talk to someone. Leave it to Logan to volunteer for something I hadn't yet articulated I wanted.

"My earliest memory of him is when I was about 5—he came to take my mom out for her birthday. She was turning 21 and he called and said he wanted to take her out, and she convinced him to spend the day with us too. He brought me a doll and we went on a picnic."

"Sounds fun, Ace."

"It was. My mom had gotten some new fabric for the occasion and my new dress matched her skirt. It had polka dots on it. And my dad showed up on his motorcycle, but my mom wouldn't let me ride it." I frowned. "He showed up late—later I think than even my mom thought he'd be. I remember staring out the window all morning—I didn't want to miss him." Logan makes a comforting noise. "He eventually showed up, but it was late-afternoon, I think, and I had skipped lunch because he's said he wanted to go on a picnic with us."

"But he came in the end, right?"

"Yeah, and we had fun. Then I stayed with Mia—"

"That's the owner of the Inn, right? The one whose wedding you went to?"

"Yeah. Sometimes she would baby sit me, when my mom really needed a break. And He left with my mom on his motorcycle—I remember waving at them."

"Do you know if she had a good time?"

"I don't know the details, but I'm pretty sure not. She came back crying not even two hours later."

"Oh." Logan's tone lets me know he's trying hard not to bring up bad memories—he wants me to remember good things.

"All my childhood memories were like that. He'd promise something and then show up late or not at all, and Mom was usually left crying. When I got older I realized what they were doing every time he came into town."

"Which was?" Logan's voice has this quality to it, one I can't quite name but have come to associate with him wanting to know something he's afraid will hurt someone else. He had the same tone when he spoke to Honor about their parents and her wedding when she was in the planning stages. Like the curiosity was killing him but he didn't want to hurt her by making her relive the whole argument.

"They were false starting at relationships. Every time he'd breeze back into town, my mom would let him in. I suppose she'd probably sleep with him, he'd propose, she'd say no, and then he would leave in a huff, never to be heard from again. Or at least until he got the urge to try his hand at "happy family" again."

My voice was matter-of-fact and dull sounding, but even I knew that it was really just hiding bitterness that threatened to overwhelm me.

"I'm sorry." Logan's voice has taken on this helpless tone—like he's opened a can of worms he didn't know existed.

"Don't be. It's not your fault. Did you know once when I was eight he wanted Mom and me to meet him at a truck stop outside of Hartford? He was making one of his bi-annual pilgrimages to the Hayden Household and he wanted to see us. Mom said no at first, but I made her call him back and tell him yes, because I really wanted to see him. It was maybe August, and I hadn't seen him since my birthday the year before."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So Mom and I went out there and he never showed. We waited three hours at this grimy, concrete building with God only knows what kind of sketchy clientele. Mom got hit on, repeatedly, but she didn't want to leave until I said we could. I sat on her lap in the parking lot, leaning up against this gross building on the ground and we waited until the sun went down."

"What did he say?"

"When he called a week later he said he'd gotten stuck in traffic. I think that was when I started taking everything he said with a healthy dose of salt."

"I hate that that happened to you." Logan's voice is pained and I can actually feel him muscles clinching a little at the thought of someone leaving me and my mom, alone and disappointed, at a truck stop for three hours.

"I know you do. But it wasn't all bad."

"No?"

"No. When I was in high school Grandma asked me to do the debutante ball with the DAR—he came to that. And he convinced Dean to wear a tux for the whole thing. He didn't stay for very long, but he bought me my dictionary on that visit, and we had fun."

"What was so fun about that?" Logan seems to think the concept of me enjoying a debutante ball is crazy—and to be honest, most of the time he'd be right.

"Well, my Dad was always just as witty as my Mom—I'm pretty sure that's what first attracted her to him. They've always been friends; they were kind of like you and Colin. I've seen pictures of them as teenagers, before I was born, and they were really close. They always seemed to be in the middle of some kind of elaborate fantasy and escape drama—there are literally hundreds of stories my Mom could tell you about them wearing something completely inappropriate and sneaking out of some function or another."

"Yeah, I know they type." I can feel him grinning cheekily, even though I can't see him from my position lying on top of him. "But why would they have fun at a cotillion?"

"The mocking, of course. Think of the mocking opportunities!" My giggly outburst interjected some levity into the admittedly heavy conversation.

"Ah, yes. The mocking—a pre-requisite to any event in which a Gilmore Girl is in attendance," Logan chuckles.

"Yeah. And Mom and Dad both were in fine form that night-trust me. I'm pretty sure Dean was frightened at the speed we were all bantering back and forth." I feel Logan tense a little at the mention of my ex-boyfriend, but I guess he recognizes that now is not the time to go all He-man on me, and I feel the tension dissipate again.

"Well, I guess it's not for the weak of heart."

"No. Plus there was the dictionary."

"Ah, the dictionary. Would this be the ridiculously huge dictionary that you keep in your room as if to worship it?"

"Yes. That would be the one. It was the first thing I really remember him buying that I had asked for specifically. He went with me once before to the bookstore, but his credit card was declined. He brought it on his next trip—I remember being really excited that he had remembered the exact one I wanted. Logan squeezes my shoulders again and we lapse into a comfortable silence together.

"How old were you when Gigi was born? You must have been, what? A junior?"

"I was a senior. I remember being so angry with him—angrier than I'd ever been before. And disappointed."

"Why?"

"He found out Gigi was going to be born at Sookie's wedding—right after he'd gotten together with Mom and promised me he was in for good this time. He left right away, before the ceremony, even, and Mom was crushed. I don't think she'd let herself get that attached to one of his promises in a long time."

"What about you? Were you crushed too?"

"A little, but he was literally in the middle of telling me about it when his phone rang and he found out about Gigi. I didn't have time to really get attached to the idea. What I was really upset about was his excuse for leaving."

"What was that?"

"That he missed it the first time around and he didn't want to miss it again."

"Ouch, I'm sorry."

"Again, Logan, not your fault. Besides—as much as it hurt at the time, I mean I wasn't exactly done being a kid quite yet then, I understand him wanting to be there for Gigi."

"Was he? There for her? Do you know?"

"Well, Sherry really wanted to make an effort to include me, and bizarrely Mom, in everything, so I was invited to the baby shower. Mom ended up being dragged in there as well when she went to drop me off in Boston, and I was there when Gigi was born."

"Really? Weren't you in school?"

"Yeah—this is actually a funny story. Sherry had scheduled a C-Section." I can feel Logan's incredulousness.

"She _scheduled _a C-section? They let you do that?"

"Yep, apparently. Anyway, she had it all scheduled and I was invited to that. But then she went into labor early." I pull back a little to look at Logan's face—this story is just too wacky to miss his reaction. "I was at the newspaper with Paris—she was having a melt-down over Jamie, her boyfriend at Princeton that she had before Asher—" He nods at the background info. "and I get a call on my cell from one of Sherry's friends. She's panicking, telling me that Sherry screwed up and no one can be there—they all have to work. My dad wasn't there yet, and the friend had to leave too. She wanted me to get to the hospital in Boston and be there. So I took a train into Boston, and then a bus to the hospital, and then when I got there I find out that _all_ of Sherry's workaholic friends had ditched her at the hospital, and Sherry wanted _me_ in the delivery room with her if Dad didn't make it."

"You? You who actually get queasy at the sight of blood? Who have to cover your eyes during the surgery scenes on _Grey's Anatomy_?"

"Yes me." I'm smiling at his joking, and I poke him gently in the side.

"So what did you do? Pass out in the delivery room? Did your Dad get there in time?"

"Well, first I panicked and called Mom—who left Friday Night Dinner to come and rescue me. When she showed up she kind of calmed Sherry down. She was freaking out and basically running an office out of her hospital room—getting me to run copies, and faxes, and making phone calls to re-arrange her schedule—it was a little crazy. Mom came in and made her stop acting like a business woman and start acting like she was having a baby."

"Did it work?"

"Well, yeah, but it sort of foreshadowed things to come, you know? She was freaking out about Dad not being there—he did get there, by the way, right as they were wheeling her into delivery—and Mom was standing there, having delivered me without any help from anyone, Dad included. It's just sort of surreal now, looking back, that Mom and I watched the woman who actually confessed to me when I first met her that she was considering getting artificially inseminated and doing it completely on her own need someone to hold her hand. She actually needed someone to tell her that scheduling everything from her baby's birth to whether Dad was going to actually do what he said he was going to do when he said he was going to do it wasn't possible. She really had a lot of trouble handling it."

"She lives in Paris now, right?"

"Yeah. She took off when Gigi was about fourteen months old. Apparently she got sick of Dad never really being there. I don't know what she was expecting. She had watched Dad with me—she saw how drive-by his methods of parenting were before she even got pregnant. I mean, through most of high school I had exactly one conversation a week with him, Wednesday mornings at 6:30, for twenty minutes. I hardly ever saw him, not even after he moved to Boston!" I bury my face in Logan's collarbone again, regret washing over me in waves.

He seems to understand, and he begins the comforting circles again on my back.

"Hey, hey, don't worry about it, alright? You don't have to be perfect. You're allowed to be angry at him."

"You know, when Sherry was pregnant with Gigi, Dad ambushed us at Grandma's once. Just barged in on Friday Night Dinner and started yelling at Mom for not letting me talk to him. I hadn't told her I'd been avoiding his calls and e-mails, so I ran into the foyer where they were arguing and yelled at him. I told him that he had hurt me for the last time and I didn't want to talk to him. I told him to go be somebody else's dad." I'm crying now and Logan is making nonsense noises into my ear, trying to clam me down from the sobbing I'm doing now.

"He knew you didn't mean it, Ace. He knew you loved him. I know he did."

"That's the thing, though, Logan. I'm not sure _did_."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean when I yelled at him, I wasn't just yelling irrationally. I really did want him to just leave me alone. And I know I didn't love him the same way I love Mom, or Grandma and Grandpa, or you, or Luke. I couldn't ever be sure that he would really come through, and I'm not sure how I felt about it. I mean, I said I love you back when he said it first, but until I was sitting in the hospital hallway looking at his door, I hadn't really thought about whether or not I really meant it."

"Do you think you did?" Logan's voice is careful, and he has a very strong grip on me, almost like he's afraid I'll get up and run away if I admit my feelings to him.

"I don't know. I never really reached a conclusion." My answer is quiet, and I'm more than a little ashamed that I can't decide whether I actually loved my own father. I snuggle deeper into his chest.

"It's ok, you know, either way." I nod my head, even though I don't quite believe him.

"You know, It's been a really long day and I think I just want to go to bed now, if that's alright." I peel myself away from him at his nod and stand up from the couch. "You coming?" I hold out my hand to him and he takes it. I'm leading us back to our room and he kisses my shoulder.

"Well, you certainly don't have to ask me twice," he chuckles slightly as he shuts the bedroom door, closing us in for an early night.


	4. Chapter 3: Logan Takes a Turn

Logan's POV

**A/N: **Well, here I am, back from vacation and ready to post again! I tried something new for this chapter—Logan's perspective. It was pretty difficult for me, since I'm a girl and have trouble with the masculine voice. I tried to capture how Logan must be feeling; to me he's always been a pretty active guy and this is a situation where he can't really do anything to help. Let me know how I did—if it works I may do a chapter where Logan deals with Michum, I haven't decided.

Also, one more thing and then I'll let you get to the chapter. I am working un-beta-ed here, so any mistakes are my own. I try to look over it before I post, but there's no telling what I'll miss. Maybe one day I'll go back over all of it with a fine toothed comb and repost mistake-free, but I'd imagine all of you would rather I churn out new chapters rather than repost old ones, so I think I'll go with that plan for now.

**LRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRLRL**

_**Logan's POV**_

"So, Gigi—what do you like to do for fun?" I'm standing with my girlfriend's little sister outside of a furniture store on 5th Avenue in New York. Never in a million years did I think I would ever be put in a position of responsibility for a child—much less one that I am not actually related to.

But things change.

I have learned over the years that I am a doer, a fixer. If something's wrong, I tend to act. Sometimes I act badly, but still I act. Rarely, if ever, do I sit and be patient. Which is why this is killing me.

My girlfriend's father died, and I can't do anything to fix it. I tried to get her to talk a little, maybe relive some of the good memories, but then I found out that the good memories are few and far between. I felt like such an ass for even bringing it up, even though she tried to tell me that I had helped. She's hurting and it's killing me, but I can't do anything to fix it.

I can, however, deal with Gigi.

Rory's taking her last exam in New Haven, so I am taking Gigi furniture shopping for our new apartment. It turns out that the condo Christopher was living in was easier to sell furnished, and so most of the furniture stayed there. Which leaves little Gigi without a child-sized bed to call her own.

So here we are, me ushering a five year old I didn't even know existed a month ago into a furniture store in New York and hoping that I can get her to decide on a suitable bed for a five year old before we have to meet Ace for a late lunch. I want to get this done for her—she's got a list a mile long of things we have to do before we move in and even one or two things off of it will help her relax a little.

"I like to color. Do you like to color?" Gigi's response startles me a little until I remember that I asked her a question first.

"I don't know. I haven't really tried it in a long time. I used to like to color." I'm glancing around for a sales person and answering her question absent-mindedly when it occurs to me that she might have a point with the child-like activities.

Because God only knows how long it's been since I sat down and just enjoyed myself with a box of crayons and some paper. I bet Ace would like it too, if I could get her to try it. Maybe we could try that this afternoon? Taking a break from all the heavy grown-up stuff she's been dealing with over the past week and remember why she's doing this.

That reason is currently hopping in a circle around my as a harried looking sales person scurries over with a blatantly ass kissing smile on his face.

"Hello, sir. How can I help you today?" It's like he can smell the black card on me. Before I met Ace it never used to bother me that sales people treated me like this, but now with her voice in my head mocking the sycophants within an inch of their lives, I find this kind of behavior a little creepy.

"Yes, well, I need to find a bed for Gigi here. We're moving and can't take her old one with us."

"Pink!" Gigi's prompt garnered an indulgent smile from the sales rep.

"We have several beds available in pink, but if you get a more neutral color as a base the bed might stick around a while longer as she gets older." His comments are directed to me in a competent voice designed to let me know he can accommodate nearly everything I want.

"Hey, Gigi—remember what we talked about? How we're gonna get a white bed and lots of pink sheets?" She pauses in the hopping around and looks at my face. I guess she decides I can't be played right now and nods. She grabs my hand and settles down, apparently reminded of the other part of that conversation—the part where I reminded her that sometimes little girls like her have more energy than grown-ups are used to, and if she wanted to come with me to do things like this then she had to tone it down a little.

"K, Logan." Her simple response and near immediate settling down has the sales rep blinking in surprise, and me inwardly sighing. This is the first time she's really acted like the hyper-active five-year old I know she's supposed to be, and while I'm glad she's settled down in the store, I beginning to wonder if I did more harm than good there.

We decide on a bed relatively quickly, with the sales rep doing his best to give Gigi what she wanted within the parameters of the apartment I gave him. She finally settles on an iron bed that brings to mind a classical heroine—it's the exact kind of bed I'd image Ace to have picked out. I suppose they're more alike than Rory realizes.

As I'm settling up at the register, Gigi tugs on my hand again.

"Logan, I have to go to the bathroom." I glance at the lady checking me out and she smiles indulgently.

"I'll take you to the ladies' room, sweetie." I nod to her gratefully and Gigi looks suspicious.

"Can't you take me?" She's got a death grip on my hand and I take that to be a sign that there's more to it here than meets the eye. I give the lady at the register a look and bend down to Gigi's level.

"What's wrong, Gig?"

"I just want you to take me."

"Can you wait until I finish checking out?" Her look of relief is all it takes for me to decide I've made the right decision here. She nods and I stand back up and finish paying for the bed and dresser set. As I take the last receipt from the lady at the register, I glance down at Gigi, who looks uncomfortable, but composed. I grab her hand again and ask the lady to point me to the restroom. She nods towards the back and I take off with Gigi at a brisk pace.

She leaves me outside the door with a wary glance. "You'll be here when I get out, right?"

"That's right." She looked vaguely reassured as she entered the bathroom and gave me a few minutes to think for myself.

I don't have the slightest clue what I'm doing here. I don't know how to parent anyone, and I certainly don't know how to be a pseudo-parent-like authority figure without stepping on the memory of her father. She's clingy, but I don't know how much is normal at this stage and how much I should be trying to discourage. I don't have the vaguest idea what I should be encouraging.

And to top it off, I'm in foreign territory with a hurting Rory as well. She's in pain and I don't know how to help. Lorelei came over a few days ago, and took Rory and Gigi both out to lunch while I went into the office for a few hours. Gigi came back looking a little better, but Rory looked more depressed than ever. I'm at a loss and I'm running out of plans here.

Gigi comes out of the bathroom in a hurry looking worried. When she sees me she scampers over and hugs me around my waist.

"I thought you left."

"Why would you think that?" My question is one born out of curiosity, but maybe her answer will clue me in on why she's so reluctant to leave me or Rory.

"I just did. But you're still here."

"I am. What do you say we go meet your sister?" I suppose no answers are going to be forthcoming today, but at least she's relatively happy again, rather than the oddly quiet mini-adult she was a little earlier.

We head out of the store and I stop to pick her up. Balancing her on my hip is an oddly parental thing to do, but she's not heavy and she seems to relax when she's being carried far more than when she's walking. I decide to just go with it—plenty of time for questions later.

The restaurant is only a few blocks away and as we approach the glass windows I see Rory sitting at a table near the middle of the restaurant. I mentally sigh when I see that she looks even more tired than she did when she left the apartment this morning.

Gigi slides out of my grip and scampers over to the table, eager to give Rory the whole story of furniture shopping. I head over at a more sedate pace, and watch as Rory perks up for Gigi. There's still a dullness to her, but it's hidden better in her sister's presence.

I don't really participate in the conversation as we have lunch—instead I watch Ace and Gigi interact. They're slowly getting used to each other. I get the distinct impression that Gigi only really knew Rory in a very limited fashion—maybe as the occasional babysitter—and that Ace thought of Gigi more in the abstract than anything else. Like she recognized academically that she had a sister, but the reality of the situation—that she now had a small person who wanted to look to her for sister-type activities—had never really hit her. After all, it's not like she ever lived with Gigi. She and her dad were clearly not very close to begin with, and Gigi seemed to only widen that gap—it makes sense that she would distance herself from Gigi and her dad after she was born.

And since I'm only talking in my head, I'm gonna be honest: as much as I love her, Ace has never been all that great at confrontation. She runs from her problems and complicated issues—and yes, she had plenty—rather than facing them and having a chance to resolve some of them.

I'm just as bad—it's not like my constant partying through my college years wasn't just an avoidance tactic to deal with my impending descent into the corporate hell waiting for me after graduation. It's funny, because as much as Rory does the exact same thing with her own problems, she's the one to get me to pull my head out of the sand and realize that maybe the life I've got going isn't so bad. She promised me she'd be there to slap me when I get too close to turning into my father. Just that reassurance alone made it a hundred times easier to do.

She laughs at something Gigi says and I'm reminded that the whole being-a-family thing is happening a little sooner than either of us really expected. I should be terrified out of my mind, and I am, a little bit, but I'm also ok with the idea. It's kind of nice, even, to think of how this is going to work with all three of us together.


End file.
